


You Can't Always Control What You Don't Understand

by Everything Is Ampersands (Mandergee)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Other, Umbrellas, Umbrellas aren't just for raindrops falling on your head, Who are we to judge, absolutely no graphic anything involved here, because really what would, mycroft holmes's umbrella - Freeform, you know what would but ow though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6412285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Everything%20Is%20Ampersands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur Weasley tries to control his son's obsession, little does he realize...he's in over his head.</p>
<p>(also, it's suggestive. Not graphic. Thus the rating, but not the stronger rating).</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Always Control What You Don't Understand

**Author's Note:**

> This is just...a short thing. A challenge, really, from a friend, though indirectly.

 

“He’s a bit obsessive about it, darling.” Molly busied herself about the kitchen, fingers waving idly as pots and pans flew into their respective cupboards, all the while speaking above the din. 

“I’ll speak to the boy.”

“If you’d left it in that alley, Arthur, I can’t imagine Ron would have developed such a fixation with a...with the...what did you call it, dear?”

“Umbrella. It’s an umbrella, Molly. And he is his father’s son- you can’t blame the lad for becoming fascinated with a muggle artifact like that one.” The pleated umbrella had been abandoned in an alleyway close to King’s Cross, and when Arthur had proofed merrily into the living room on a pouring Sunday evening with the item tucked neatly beneath the arm of his soaking trenchcoat his youngest son had taken an immediate interest in it. And the label adhered to the handle had given him the only clue to who it may have once belonged to, though he had little desire to find the owner and return it. “Just think! A muggle device designed to immediately lend confidence to those who carry it. Such an enchantment is beyond Muggle knowledge, yet inexplicably- this Mycroft Holmes must be of mixed blood to possess such a powerful item.”

“Yes, dear.” She’d begun to tune him out, Arthur realized, as was common when he’d start to ramble about Muggle matters that rarely interested her. His eccentricities were something she would entertain to a degree, and he loved her dearly for it despite the lack of attention, but the love was something he wished he could _share_. And finally there was _Ron_ , whose interest hadn’t peaked until the introduction of the new piece _-_ which encouraged his father to no end.

_ Perhaps _ , Arthur mused, leaning back in his tattered armchair and considering the object hung on the newel post at the end of the stairs,  _ Perhaps it’s time I gave him the other items I brought along with the umbrella. _

_ ~~ _

“Come on in, then!” The room smelled of Honeydukes- chocolate melting in wrappers on the windowsill and empty bottles of butterbeer scattered across the floor, the latter of which Arthur stepped gingerly around as he stepped into the crowded room. Ron had at last graduated to his own space, and the boy lounged comfortably on his tattered mattress as he glanced up from an equally tattered copy of  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ . “Yeah, dad?”

“I thought I might talk to you a bit, son, if you have a moment.” They shared a love of reading- they always  _ had _ , and he let his fingers run over the cracked spines of several books stacked on a weary bookshelf in the corner.  _  One Flew Over the Hippogriff’s Nest. Fifty Shades of Quidditch?  _ The last was an unfamiliar title, yet much more careworn than the others, and Arthur made a mental note to borrow it from his son at a later juncture.

_ “ _ Harry’s coming later, I think- but yeah, I’ve got time.” Carelessly dog-earing the book- a habit his mother  _ despised _ , as Arthur knew all too well- Ron pulled himself into a sitting position, and his father caught a glimpse of the familiar curved umbrella handle from just beneath the edge of his son’s ratty quilt. 

“I thought we might...that is, your mother is concerned you might be a little too fond of that umbrella I brought home.”

“I dunno what you’re getting on about, dad.” Guilt colored Ron’s face in an all-too-familiar fashion, recognized from the glimpses of himself his father would get in the mirror upon returning home with bags full of new and unfamiliar Muggle pieces. The most recent, besides the umbrella, currently resided beneath his right arm and waited for the perfect moment to be revealed and hopefully take the place of the umbrella itself. “I like it, sure- but what’s mum going on for? She’s gone nutty over that thing with the thing on it you brought in from Cardiff last Christmas.”

“It’s a...I think they called it a Bilbo, son. And she’s hardly gone nutters.”

“I don’t think it’s called that, dad. And she’s worn the thing out- I’d say _that_ counts as nutters.” What Molly did with the...it was her own business, Arthur considered, though he wondered if he shouldn’t revisit the shop in Cardiff where he’d picked up the gift, despite the large amount of Muggle money he’d been forced to use in order to buy it. But Molly loved butterflies, and it resembled a butterfly as much as it  _ nearly _ resembled what he’d told himself it really  _ couldn’t _ . Muggles were certainly odd, but he couldn’t imagine they’d have anything as inappropriate as that in their shops where just  _ anyone _ could purchase it. Certainly,  _ children _ had been shopping in the front of the store, laughing at the sound of farting and odd noises coming from all manner of items.

But again, Muggles were just...barmy, as Ron would put it, and he couldn’t pretend to understand them.

“Regardless, your mother isn’t what I came up here to talk to you about.” He withdrew the surprise he’d retrieved from the newel post, offered the drooping length of red fabric to his son. “I know Muggles are fond of their fancy clothing, and I picked this up on my last trip into London. You’re a bit old for toys, but the packaging called this a ‘teddy’, and I thought it might help you find an interest beyond the muggle umbrella.”

“Thanks, Dad.” The teddy itself was a bright, beautiful red- one which had caught Arthur’s eye immediately, and though he’d picked nothing up for his wife on that particular trip, the bright red had reminded him of the Quidditch uniforms belonging to his long-favorite team which was also long-disbanded. “Tell mum I’ll bring the umbrella down at dinner so she can stop going on. Yeah?”

“Sure thing, son.” He’d hoped for more of a talk, but Ron had already taken up his book and begun flipping idly through the pages as the teddy rested beside him, and Arthur backed slowly out of the room before pulling the door closed behind him. He was sure Molly would accept the promise that an artifact as powerful as the umbrella belonging to Mycroft Holmes would be in more capable hands shortly, and Ron would have a new artifact to interest himself in for a while.

_ Maybe _ , he thought excitedly, making his way back down the stairs,  _ Ron would be as interested in the Muggle Ambulance as I am.  _ The idea was enough that he was smiling as he burst into the kitchen, and Molly took little notice- which was, for the moment, absolutely fine with him.

~~

“Oi. I thought he’d never leave.”  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ forgotten, Ron let the volume tumble to the cluttered floor and turned his attention to the umbrella that lay beneath his quilt. The handle was thick, black enamel glistening, and as he let his fingers caress it he wondered if the man who had owned it- some Mycroft Holmes fellow- missed it as much as he would.

_ Never mind _ , he told himself, and reached for the teddy that had begun to ooze fluidly over the edge of his bed. It looked fierce and sexy against his pale skin, and he slipped it on over his bulky knit sweater before curling his body around the slender pleated purple umbrella. 

“Let’s you and I say goodbye a right proper way before Mum gets her paws on you, eh?”

 

 


End file.
